Another Fairy Tale

Shards of silence fell over the group. The Voice boomed again;
“Airies and Airymen. These are times of great uncertainties. We must find a solution to this crisis at once or face extinction”

The owner of the Voice was a pompous looking man. The overhead lights cast an eerie glow caused by the reflection from his orange and green coloured robes. He sat erect with his hands folded on the rectangular ivory table that filled most of the space in the room. On his head, sat the Voice. It was the last surviving member of its clan. It belonged to the Emperor since he was a boy of eight. Long before he made a fool of himself without clothes.

“If we don’t stop her before tomorrow, we are all doomed. Gone will be the days of riding on our glorious past. Oh! It will all be such a waste. Such a poor little waste”, Mrs. Hood cried hysterically.

Mrs. Hood had been a heroine in her hay days. Now, the red cap looked a little ridiculous on her scanty haired head. It had taken a long time to convince her mother to poison her grandma. The old hag was ninety and still sitting on mansions and palaces all over the country. She had taken advantage of the Wolf’s secret crush on her. She wasn’t that little after all. She had convinced him to take the blame and in turn they could live happily ever after. It had all worked out well till a certain Grimm got whiff of the plot and was about to publish it. He and his brothers had to be bribed to rewrite the sound bite and it was a huge hit. The book followed soon after and the royalties were decent even by today’s standards.

They all had tales. Ms. Beauty for one, who was in the business of manufacturing spindles of a special kind. These were supplied to terrorist organizations and could put people to sleep. Forever. Alexander, Hitler, Stalin and even Taliban paid a huge premium on these machines. She too had to rely on Grimm brothers to present a palatable story about her real business.

Cinder also had an interesting tale. Mr. Charming had wanted to marry her, a commoner. These days it was only too easy. Princess Katie and Prince William couldn’t even imagine the difficulties of those days. Mr. Charming had to go to great lengths to put a romantic, dreamy eyed spin on things. He had utilized public sympathy with the ‘Shoe that fits’ campaign. Eventually, it had all worked out well. They had to approach Grimm for publicity and image management. Her step mother and sisters had only been too happy to play the part. Who wouldn’t with that kind of money in the offing?!

The Emperor himself, who now chaired the meeting, had a lot at stake. When he had been caught in a compromising position with his partner, he had to turn to Grimm to turn things around. Being a homosexual was an idea that was abhorred in those days. A man in his position could lose everything.

They were all faced with an impending catastrophe. Everything created so painstakingly could fall to bits. One crazed woman could undo it all. Turn things to shambles. They had long ago stopped their appearances in public. They were content with their race being re-branded as fairies instead of ‘Airies’ and dished out in glossy story books and Disney toons. They had taken to disguising as humans. They would secretly laugh, when once in a while they peeked through a window and heard such fairy tales. But overall, life was good. The money was good. And above all, their secret was safe with the Brothers.Untill yesterday

The phone rang. It was barely five. He had slept late after dropping Rumpelstiltskin to the airport. He woke up with a groggy head to only find himself frantically beckoned by the new android that Rumples had gifted last Christmas.

“The Emperor speaking”, he barked on the phone.

“I know who you are”, a shrill voice sounded at the other end.

“I have no patience for crank calls at this hour”, said the Emperor, annoyed.

“ Grimm told me everything. I know who you are. Unless you are willing to listen and give what I want, am going to spill it all out. I have proofs. Spindles, poisoned apples and best of all pictures of you in your naked glory”
The Emperor forgot to breathe. For what seemed like an hour but was only a few seconds, the Emperor saw his world fall apart. He now whimpered, “ Who are you and what do you want?”

“Who I am, is unimportant. Let’s say am one of the grim exes”, the woman at the other end chuckled, pleased at her own wit. “What I need is to get a deal on the inside. I am too old now, but I want my bother to be an Airie. The only twist is that he doesn’t want to be a part of your happy mushy world. He wants to be one of the Bad Ones. He has got his head around being remembered as a legend. The problem is that he has no credentials. The only worthwhile thing he has done was being friends with an organization in Pakistan. But he wants to be remembered as the greatest terrorist of all times. Such that one day, mothers tell stories about him. He wants children to talk in hushed tones and say, ‘Osama could live ten years amidst guns and nukes. And when he died, the U.S President himself left all agendas to make an announcement.”

And now the only thing that was in the way of ‘Tale of Osama and the U.S Military’ was the Voice in the Emperor’s head. That stopped him from being party to creating and living another gigantic lie. Or in the local parlance, another fairytale. Would the Voice win?

matters of heart

I have looked at this for long now
From all angles and dips and dents
Across lines and points and circumferences
I have even peered through its guts

I have found things, yes.Plenty of things
Like my hand underwater, drawing out discarded stuff
Mouthful of curves making smiles
Along with fistful of dreamy flights

I have tried measuring these things
On scales and balances, judiciously placed
They have tilted always in another favor
I get a lousy sum at the end to discontent with

I have heard that in matters of heart
The motions of business should be done away with
How, what, when and where should be mere technicalities
But.My heart resides in my brain

The knee seems an inappropriate place.
It goes weak at the first heartbeat

Among the Multitude - Walt Whitman

Among the men and women the multitude,
I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,
Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,
any nearer than I am,
Some are baffled, but that one is not--that one knows me.

Ah lover and perfect equal,
I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections,
And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.

Experiments in breathing

I have decided to breathe

Wait – what’s that shadow on your face?

Am crazy or what? Is that the rhetoric that I see you chew and swallow?

After all, who doesn’t breathe?



That is a misconception and I shall expound

Yes – hold your horses will you?

When was the last time you felt your breath?

Yes - When you knew you were breathing?



The breathing in of life and breathing out of crap

Or carbon-dioxide, to suit senses marinated in sophistication

Yes, so as I was saying- when was last time you felt alive?

Felt a gush of air through your nose revive and refresh?



When was it last that you were not gulping mouthfuls-

Of existence dealt in doses of day ends and weekends?

When was it last that you leapt out of your bed-

And not feel like a ton of bricks on your head?



Indulge me a little more in this experiment on breathing and answer-



Do you nudge the night to call it a day?

Or do you run through the day, hunted like a prey?

Do you have moments to spare, jingling in your pocket?

Or do you beg for them like you lost them to a paycheck?



On a scale of one to ten, are you more dead or alive?

On a scale of one to five – are you exceedingly anxious or supremely content?

On a scale of zero to seven – how often do you stand and stare?

On a scale of zero to nine- how often do you do things without a care?



I put those to make my experiments in breathing, quantitatively sound

For you will appreciate when I say, and I say this without qualms

That you can do zilch without counting and then calculating

Reasoning, rationalizing, weighing, measuring and then erring anyways



And so coming to square one, or back to basics if you like

For what can be more basic than breathing

I have decided to exercise this very fundamental right

More rightful than rights to equality or fraternity



The right to breathe and the right to live

The right to pause and rewind

The right to wonder and pursue

The right to be and just be.

These make me

A piece of heart and chunks from the following:

Nostalgia – Seasoned yet fresh with mango flavored bits of memories

Smell – From mom’s sari after her prayer

Sight – Of grandpa quietly amused at the half eaten toothpaste in my mouth

Conversation – With a stranger about to turn friend against the pitter patter of rain on concrete

Sound – From the rustle of dawn caught between night and day

Curiosity – About the reflection in the mirror, neither child nor woman

Taste – Of water mixed with tamarind laced tears

Fear – Of yellowed future living upto expectations without me

Touch – Of a hint at the corners of his mouth reflected in the glint in his eyes

Calm – As I see myself counting waves by the sea and tossing ideas for my pen

Passion – Wrapped in bubble shaped seconds that burst at uninvited intervals

Paper – Printed, blank, written and read with words floating upon my mind

Coffee and Tea – That break the average of a day with steam and tongue

Friend – In the singular, she suffices, substitutes, suffuses

Anger – not the strong and silent variety. Fragile and loud

Delight – At whiffing the bold type faced unread mail running into pages

Pain - From waiting behind doors locked from the outside for the sound of footsteps announcing sleep

Loss – Of bricks that could build castles in air complete with windows overlooking the specks below

Here and Gone

I am curious about the hollow of your neck.  If it tastes of earth

The pulse under my breath on which I pour myself and spread

To know who you are. To catch you when you aren’t thinking

When you gasp for breath and find me instead

It is still grey on the outside, though I have colors bursting under my skin

It is warm around this place above my breast where I start to feel a throb

The scent on my skin reminiscent of  seconds and minutes desirous of years

Your half a smile meets the other half tossed its way

I am not good at letting go. I have saved the twinkle in your eye

From that day when you splashed water and wouldn’t let me go

I also have the squeeze of your hands in my fingers

And the smell of belonging when I buried my head in your shirt

Not that you are gone. Not that you are here

Not that I let you go. Not that I held on

Not that I lived you. Not that I died

Not that I can’t do without you. Not that I will

Message Encrypted

(1)

Will you come with me to the party?
Yes sure, if you want me to
Which means you want to not?
No I do, isn’t that what I said?
Fine. I shall go alone

How do I look from the back?
I like the view from behind
You don’t like the front?
But you asked about your back!
You are insensitive by the minute

(2)

Are you free for a meeting this weekend?
I actually made plans
You mean to say the rest have no plans?
But you asked if I were free
What can I say; I don’t want work- life balance issues

Don’t you think this is a good idea?
I think it might work with some modifications
But don’t you think it’s brilliant as is?
Yes, there are pluses and only if we could add bits
You need to start thinking out of the box

(3)

Am not going to be home tonight
But you haven’t been home all week
I was, only if you and Mom spoke
But I have been home, not she
Will you not make this about you two again?

What is that on your naval, a piercing?
Mom, will you not freak out, it’s just a ring!
It’s not what girls from good families do
But, it’s what I want and it doesn’t even show
If you don’t listen I will have to let Dad know

(4)

Am thinking of breaking up with him?
Yes, you have been unhappy after all
So you agree, he is not my type?
No, I mean its about doing what you feel right
You say you are my friend when you won’t even advise?!

My mother in law poisons my husband’s ears daily
How do you know, did you hear them talking?
I just know, from the way they talk as if I am not there
Couldn’t that be because she can speak only Tamil?
Whose side are you on-her’s or mine?

(5)

That will be ten rupees for two lemons
So much for just two, last week it was three
Madam if I had money it would all be free
I don’t want it free, just give me the correct price
For the time I spent on two lemons, I should ask for thrice

I want to return this, it’s not fresh
But its rice, what do you mean by that?
I cooked it today, and it smelled like dead rat
This is the best quality basmati rice, how can it stink?
Now I know, this isn’t even basmati, that was the missing link

(6)

I will not be coming tomorrow, my nephew died
Oh! Am sorry, thought you said he died the last Monday
That was my niece, and that is an unkind question to ask
I understand but you have taken too many leaves
You can call God and ask who died, if you don’t believe

I have guests tonight; I want you to start early
I have kids to pick up from school; can I bring them with me?
We would need quiet, these are distinguished personalities
They will not talk; I will just give them something to eat
And if they chatter, will you come appease my guests please?